


True Loves

by displacerghost, setepenre_set



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Pheromones, Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sex, Slight drinking, mating for life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/displacerghost/pseuds/displacerghost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/setepenre_set/pseuds/setepenre_set
Summary: Megamind's species mates for life.This would have been good to know before he’d had a semi-drunken one-night hookup with his damsel.
Relationships: Megamind/Roxanne Ritchi
Comments: 37
Kudos: 320





	True Loves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elf_Kid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elf_Kid/gifts).



> For Elf, who made a Tumblr post asking for this prompt. The summary is pretty much directly taken from the prompt.
> 
> Elf, we hope you like it!

“Whatcha workin on?”

A bang from the underside of the machine, followed by a sibilant curse, and Megamind emerges. Rubbing his head where a twilight bruise was already blooming under summer-sky skin, dragging engine grease over his face in an oil-slick midnight smear. Green eyes slitted like an angry cat’s, lips pressed hard together as if to hold back another curse. He exhales a long breath through his nose instead, which manages to convey exactly the same feeling.

Roxanne makes a sympathetic humming sound and is rewarded with a sharp glance, upwards and sidelong. Perched on the raised pipe beside the machine, she swings bare feet, loose-limbed and relaxed.

For a moment, she thinks Megamind might have something to say about that—he knows the bots untied her an hour ago, of course; he’s the one who told them to, when it became clear that…whatever this machine is, it’s not going to start up without some serious mechanical work. And technically, he didn’t _say_ anything about her staying in the chair—probably because he was already preoccupied with crawling under the machine.

Megamind sighs.

“This, Miss Ritchi,” he says, waving the wrench at the machine in a bitter parody of a supervillain gesture, “is the Equestrinator.” He raises his eyebrows at her, raises both hands, expression suddenly one of terror. _“Aaaaaah,”_ he says, entirely without raising his voice, imitating a distantly screaming populace.

Roxanne, pouring from the bottle in her hand to the cup, gives a snort of laughter, hand slipping so that the coffee-and-chocolate flavored liquid splashes slightly over the side of the cup. Quickly, she sets the bottle down beside her on the pipe, licks the side and rim of the cup before it can drip onto the floor. Looks up to see Megamind watching her with an expression that’s almost a wince.

“What?”

“Hm? Oh—” Megamind shakes his head, turns his eyes away. “The brainbots brought you _that_ to drink?”

“Mm-hm,” Roxanne says, looks at the cup in her hand with a grin, “I think they just brought whatever they happened to find in the fridge when you told them to get me a snack—they also gave me two doughnuts, three cold plums in a sandwich bag, a tomato, and an entire loaf of bread.”

She grins when Megamind makes a face.

“So, heads up—I ate your plums. Don’t be expecting to have those around later.”

Megamind goes to rub his hand over his eyes, notices how much grease is on it, pulls another face, drops his hand.

“Apologies, Miss Ritchi,” he says, then sighs, leans back against the side of the machine. “I suppose this—” he waves the wrench in a sweeping gesture that encompasses him, the machine, and Roxanne, “—is what comes of attempting to continue your kidnappings with Minion gone.”

A bitter quirk of his lips as he smiles up at her. Roxanne kicks one bare heel against the pipe.

“Well, I, for one,” she says, “am not going to complain. This stuff is delicious.”

She takes another drink as Megamind gives a little scoff of laughter, shakes his head at her.

“It’s alcoholic,” he says.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

Roxanne laughs, takes another drink, savoring the warm rush of it—she’s well aware that she’s tipsy, that—

_oh-your-eyes-are-so-pretty-random-stranger-I-just-met-in-the-bathroom-here-let-me-redo-your-makeup-for-you_

—kind of tipsy, the jagged edges of the world smoothed away for her.

Megamind leans his head back against the metal side of the machine with a _thunk_ , looks up at her through smears of grease and smudged eyeliner.

“Gotta admit,” she says, “I’m surprised.”

Megamind raises his eyebrows.

“Surprised?”

She gestures with—to—the cup.

“I didn’t know you drank.”

Megamind shrugs, pulls his knees up to rest his elbows on them, wrench still dangling from one hand.

“Oh, I don’t, really,” he says. “That’s Minion’s—Uncle Sven makes it for him.”

 _“Minion_ drinks?”

“Like a fish.”

Roxanne gives a sharp crack of laughter and Megamind grins at her.

“Where _is_ Minion, anyway?” she asks.

Megamind snorts.

“Nosy reporter,” he says.

Roxanne raises her eyebrows with a completely unrepentant grin and Megamind rolls his eyes at her.

Roxanne takes another drink.

“—he’s in Romania.”

Roxanne startles, almost spilling her drink again. Stares at Megamind, who has his eyes closed, now, his head resting back against the sheet of metal, long blue line of his throat exposed.

“Wh—Romania? Really?”

A soft laugh, and Megamind raises an eyebrow without opening his eyes.

“Yes, really, Miss Ritchi.”

“Why _Romania?_ _”_ Roxanne asks, _one_ of the two questions burning on the tip of her tongue, the other being _why are you telling me this?_

“Technology exchange,” Megamind says. Opens one eye, gives her a sideways smile. “Not—” he lifts the wrench, taps the machine behind his head with a _clang,_ “—for _this_ mistake of mechanical engineering, of course.”

Roxanne hums, stores _technology exchange; romania_ away in the recesses of her brain, for researching when she’s at home and in a more non-intoxicated state.

“What _is_ an Equestrinator, anyway?” she asks.

“Besides broken?” bitter, under his breath.

“Besides a _giant robot,_ _”_ Roxanne says, gesturing to the hulking shape at Megamind’s back. She fixes Megamind with an imperious look as she takes another sip. “My _nosey reporter skills_ have already indicated to me that it’s a giant robot, Megamind; be very impressed.”

Megamind laughs, raises his head.

“Your powers of deduction and detection amaze me, Miss Ritchi, truly!” Green eyes bright again, a flash of smile. “I can see there’s no point in trying to keep anything from you, so—the _Equestrinator—_ _”_ a one-handed gesture at the machine, an unselfconscious flourish, no self-mockery this time, “—is a giant robotic… _horse._ _”_

Roxanne blinks at the tangle of mechanical sections spread out on the floor behind Megamind. She’s probably seen things that look _less_ like a horse, but she’s damned if she can remember _when._ She opens her mouth to say so—but Megamind raises one finger, and one eyebrow, cutting her off.

“—with! An immensely large and particularly terrifying _drill_ attached!”

Roxanne blinks again, thoughts derailed by the instant mental image of—

“—uh. That’s. um—” she coughs, _certain_ she can’t be imagining this correctly, though she’s hard pressed to know how _else_ to picture it. “—wh—where is the, uh, the drill…attached?”

“To the head, of course,” Megamind says, brisk and dismissive, “where else would it be attached?”

Roxanne takes a quick drink to avoid having to answer _that_ question, then—

“Wait. The drill is attached to the _head?_ _”_ Incredulous look at Megamind. “Wh—like—like a giant _unicorn?_ _”_

“Of evil,” Megamind says, looking pensively off into the distance, but with a nearly invisible smile hovering around the corners of his eyes.

Roxanne cackles, head thrown back—nearly loses her balance and falls, slides down the pipe to the floor instead. When she recovers enough to look at him again, Megamind is grinning at her openly.

“I am—” Roxanne snickers, “—I am _genuinely looking forward_ to seeing that in action, Megamind—giant unicorn, _oh my god_ that’s _ridiculous._ _”_

“Yes! Exact—you see why I’m so—” a bang with the wrench against the metal hull again, “—frustrated that it’s decided not to _work!_ It’s a _good design_ , too—fully articulated neck, complete range of motion—”

He cuts himself off with an annoyed slash of his hand, mouth pulling sideways and down. Roxanne reaches out to pat him sympathetically—realizes she’s not close enough to pat anything but the tip of one shoe, frowns, scooches closer—reaches out and pats him sympathetically on the knee.

“You’ll get it fixed,” she says. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay; you’ll see.”

Megamind exhales on a long sigh, disagreement clear in his expression.

“It _will_ be okay,” she insists.

He gives her a sidelong, disbelieving look, and she pats his knee again, not knowing how else to—oh!

She holds out the cup to him, smiles encouragingly. Megamind’s lips twitch.

“Have some; it’s good! _And_ it’ll make you feel better.”

He laughs.

“If you say so,” he says. “But—ah—”

He holds up his—extremely filthy—hands.

“Oh! That’s—”

“—so if you’ll just—”

“—here!”

Megamind gives a start as she brings the cup up to his mouth, the rim of it pressed against his lower lip.

 _like a kiss_ , Roxanne thinks, with a bubbly internal giggle at his expression—all wide eyes and blown pupils and a lavender-pink blush of shock, his lips still parted.

She raises her eyebrows—a question. For a moment, no further reaction, and then—Megamind leans forward, lip still pressed to the cup, tilts his head back.

Roxanne gives him a bright smile and tips the cup up for him to drink.

She doesn’t _mean_ to give him the rest of it to drink, but it’s hard to judge just how far to tilt the cup, and Megamind just watches her through his lashes and cooperatively continues to keep his head tipped for her, throat working as he swallows, and—before she knows it, the cup is empty.

Megamind tips his chin down again, and Roxanne, reflexes slow, takes half a moment too long to right the cup. The last slight bit of liquid spills over onto the rim.

Quick movement of Megamind’s head, bending forward again, his lips parting, and he _licks_ the cup, pink tongue sliding slick over the rim of the glass before flicking inside of it to catch the last drops. And Roxanne—

Megamind, tip of his tongue on the rim of the glass, raises his eyebrows at her expectantly, which—what—

—fuck! right yes okay—

Roxanne rights the cup again, fumbling just a little as she watches Megamind’s tongue slide over his lower lip.

_—well, anyway!_

Carefully—very carefully—she sets the cup on the ground beside her. Jesus, she must be more out of it than she thought.

A soft sound from Megamind, a kind of—hum. She looks up at him.

He’s—wow—

There’s a kind of _fluidity_ to the way he’s sitting, now—a lack of stiffness in his spine, an almost languid grace in the tilt of his head.

“You were right.”

“I—huh?”

“You were right,” Megamind says again, voice a smooth silde of silk. He smiles at her, slow and easy, watching her with dark eyes. “I’m feeling better already.”

Roxanne blinks.

“I—wow, that was—fast.”

Megamind laughs, a ripple of sound.

“Fast even for _me,_ _”_ he says, then shrugs, a graceful gesture of dismissal. “This was a _good_ plan, Miss Ritchi.”

Roxanne licks her lips.

“So can I help?”

The question bursts out of her; Megamind tips his head sideways, a line of inquiry appearing between his brows.

“Help?”

“With the, ah—” she gestures—

_(shit, fuck—what_ _’s the thing called again, the—)_

“—Equestrinator! With the Equestrinator!”

A slow blink of green eyes, and then—a slow smile.

Megamind laughs.

“All right,” he says. “Why not?”


End file.
